Barren Lands
by RiaInArmour
Summary: Riley has managed to survive -mostly- by herself ever since the end of the world, until she escapes from a group of men and arrives at the gates of the Alexandrian Safe-Zone. There, she meets a whole new group of people, including a mysterious boy with only one eye. Carl/OFC
1. Chapter 1

My gun only has one bullet. Even after all of this started I never learned how to use the weapon properly, my family dying in the initial panic -except for my brother who I hadn't heard from since the phone lines failed- and each group I stayed with being too weary of giving one to a twelve year old girl. That sort of mentality made sense in the beginning, when people still thought that things would someday go back to the way they were, when the dead wasn't coming back to life and eating people. Now, I realize that all it did was ensure that the only weapon I could use was my hammer.

The only purpose the gun serves is to free me from a situation where my options are death, or something worse. That something worse came and stole my gun, and me.

I'm not really sure what I would have been doing in this moment if the world had never ended, but it sure as hell wouldn't have been this. Virtually covered in the rot and gore that used to make me want to vomit but now just makes me numb, I used to walk amongst the dead, shuffling alongside the herds, protecting myself by surrounding myself with what I used to think were the scariest things about this new world.

The dead killed my family, overtook the military and refugee camps, and destroyed every subsequent group I've been with since. I used to pity the people who died, mauled and bitten by biters. I kind of wish that I had died along with them, now.

The truck suddenly hits a bump in the road, sending me falling to the metal floor as a litany of curse words escape me. "Goddamn it!" I struggle to my feet and make my way from the center of the back of the moving van over to the sides.

I slump down, still grumbling curse words at the pang in my side and the pounding of my head that I've been trying my hardest to ignore. They hadn't tied me up before throwing me in here and I'm thankful for that; it'll be much easier to gouge out one of their eyeballs with freed hands.

They caught me when it was storming. Rain's my greatest weakness because it washes away my camouflage and no longer masks my scent from the dead. I had been holed up in an abandoned house, letting myself sleep because I hadn't seen anyone else alive in weeks. They'd also been looking for a place to hunker down, waiting for the storm to pass by before continuing driving in search of a better shelter and some food, and I'd been unlucky enough to have them find the same place I was stashed in.

When I had woken up, surrounded by four men loaded with weapons -my own in the hands of their leader- I had thought I was going to die. They didn't kill me, but I wish they had.

We stayed in that house for two weeks, my screams muffled for fear of the hordes hearing us, before they packed up, threw me in the back of the moving van, and continued on their way.

Now I'm here, ribs aching along with my probable concussion from where one of them thought I needed a lesson in discipline. I'm hoping one of them accidentally goes too far in their attempts to 'train' me and I die, but I know they'll be careful to purposefully not break their toy.

A sharp pain blooms from the tip of my finger and I look down to realize with some amount of surprise to realize that I've bitten my nail down to the quick. A droplet of blood wells up to the skin and I watch, oddly fascinated, as it runs down the cleanness of my hand -I'd been careful to keep my hands and any cuts free of bits of the biters so I wouldn't accidentally contaminate myself- and mingles with the gore that starts at my wrist.

I'm startled from my thoughts by the sudden braking of the van, sending me slamming into the floor again. I pick myself back up while the men in the front shout at each other and whatever managed to spook them.

"They came...nowhere...dead...too many to…" What I can hear of their shouts does nothing to soothe me. It sounds like the persistent fog that have blanketed the nights since the storm a few weeks ago covered up a horde, and we managed to drive right into the middle of it.

I can hear their doors slam shut as they jump out of the front and then gunshots, and I fear that they're going to leave me locked back here until someone saves me. Or until I die.

My fears are assuaged by the sound of footsteps rounding the van and then someone fumbling with the lock. I go to the door, eager to escape this sort of death despite my macabre thoughts.

The door opens with a loud rattle and I don't resist when the one who saved me -the leader, I realize- roughly grabs my arm and yanks me out. Now that I'm out of the complete darkness of the van and in the moon-lit night, I am horrified by the mass of the biters surrounding me.

If the group of men hadn't been surrounding me, making a ruckus by shooting blindly at the horde and shouting at each other, I'm confident that I would have been ignored, my scent still that of one of the dead. Now, I'll be eaten by association, the biters smelling the living men and their scent hovering over me because I'm so close to them.

In a flash, an idea hits me. It makes me queasy just thinking about it, the loss of an essential part of me, but if I don't do it, I'll die.

I thought I was ready to die, but I'm not.

The men aren't paying any attention to me, focused more on making their way out of the horde, but I can't slip out because they've formed a circle with me in the middle. One of the men stops to reload his gun, and I strike. The shove isn't enough for him to trip or fall over, as I'm too weak from malnourishment and dehydration, but he is taken by surprise, and turns to yell at me. His lack of vigilance is enough to seal his fate, and I watch, unsure of how to feel, as one of the dead takes a bite out of his shoulder.

He goes down, screaming, the rest of the group turns toward him, breaking rank, and I run into the midst of the dead.

I bump into a number of biters in my mad dash to escape my tormentors, but none pay me any mind, too focused on the scent of freshly spilled blood.

* * *

When I'm slightly more confident in my level of safety, I stop sprinting -now more like halfhearted jogging- bent over with my hands on my knee, gasping wildly for breath.

The sun's been up for a half hour now and I'm back on the road. The woods were nice for hiding from people, but having to exert the energy to swerve around trees and step over branches wasn't worth it at the moment. I can walk in the middle of the road and not have to go around any of the abandoned cars on the side.

I'm in a rich neighborhood now. The houses are bigger and look like they were abandoned at the very beginning of the end of the world, the rich not usually smart enough to grab all of their surplus of supplies before jumping ship.

I could have stopped at any of the number of safe looking houses and tended to my wounds, but I want to get as much distance from my captors today as I can. There's no guarantee that they managed to live and escape the dead, but I don't want to take any chances.

My legs feel like jelly when I manage to convince them to continue moving, but I don't stop. I'm strangely lonely for someone whose last interaction with other living beings involved kidnapping and...well. Despite what has happened to every single group I've been a part of, I want to find another one.

As if my prayers have been answered, I see a wall. It's huge, really sturdy looking, and I can't stop my jaw from hitting the ground. My steps quicken, shuffling around the biters impaled on wooden spikes. I can hear people shouting inside the settlement, assuring me that there are still living people, but I freeze in fear when I glance up and see a gun aimed at me from the top of the wall.

For a second I feel my hope for seeing decent human beings sinks into the pit of my stomach, and then I realize that they must think I'm one of the biters. I certainly look the part, in tattered clothing and still mostly covered in rot, and I'm sure my slow shuffle is reminiscent of the dead.

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Wait! I'm not dead, I'm alive. Please, help me!"

I see the person shift the gun away and peer at me in disbelief before shouting down to whoever's at the gate. "It's just a girl! Let her in."

The first layer of the gate rattles open and I almost sob in relief at what I can see through the bars. There are people, three of them with more appearing, and they're clean.

I don't run towards them, as I can see their weary expressions, but when the second layer slides open, I can't help the wobbling step forward I take.

That step appears to have been my undoing, because I fall to my knees, vision graying and blackness seeping in. The last thing I see before I slump forward and fall onto my face is the group of people running towards me.

* * *

I wake up in someone's arms, the foreign sensation of being close to another living being and not being afraid for my life enough to shock me back to consciousness.

My body tenses instinctively, and the arms, disappointingly grubby looking -maybe they don't have running water- tighten around me. "Calm down. We're not gonna hurt you."

Eyes flying open at the southern accent, they land on the face of the man carrying me before sliding around to take in the crowd surrounding me. Only two of them, a man and a women, carry their weapons at the ready, the rest apparently not perceiving me as a threat. And it's true, that I was lonely, but being this close to a man so soon after escaping the last group is freaking me out.

With more energy than I thought I had in me, I twist out of his arms, landing on my feet and quickly putting some distance between me and the rest of the group. The crowd backs up in surprise except for the two with weapons, who raise their guns, and a man. Their leader.

"Whoa there. We're not trying to hurt you. We were just gonna take you to our infirmary, fix ya up."

There's even more people around us now, at least twenty, and it's not helping my nerves. The leader tells the man and woman with guns to put them down, smooth voice soothing me a little bit.

He notices, warm brown eyes peering intently at me. He takes a slow step toward me, and then another when I don't do anything.

"What's your name?"

I hesitate, opening my mouth and blushing slightly when nothing comes out. I clear my throat and try again. "M-my name's-"

"Riley?!" My head shoots up at the sound of my name from someone else's mouth. There's a man pushing through the group of people, and based on the looks on everybody's faces, I'm not the only one surprised at his outburst.

Suddenly, I can see his face, and even with the obvious signs of aging and the ridiculous wisp of a moustache and the bulkier build, I can tell it's him.

"Oh my God. Glenn?!"

Tears fall from my eyes and I can see them gathering in his as well. I don't have the time to step towards him before he's rushed to me and I'm gathered in his arms.

He's murmuring things to me, half-formed questions falling from his lips and barely discernible answers falling from mine. We stand there, wrapped up in each other, until the leader clears his throat. There's a woman standing behind him, really pretty and looking at Glenn like he's hung the moon.

"Glenn, you know her?"

He nods, beaming at the people surrounding us, then me, then the woman, before responding. "Yeah, I know her. Rick, Maggie, this is Riley," he pauses, seemingly choked up.

"My sister."

* * *

 **Yes, this will be an eventual Carl/OFC. It's set about 600 days after the outbreak, which is 62 days after the group reaches Alexandria and in the time span between the mid-season premier and the next episode.**

 **Don't forget to favorite and comment!**


	2. Chapter 2

A ripple runs through the crowd, shocked by our reunion after a year and a half of assuming the other was dead.

The leader, Rick, raises a single eyebrow, while Maggie gasps and makes as if to run towards my brother. She doesn't, and I'm glad; I'm not sure how I would've reacted after the last time people sprung themselves at me.

"Your sister? She came here all the way from Michigan?" Maggie's voice is soothing like Rick's, and it's comforting that Glenn told her about me, thought about me the same way I thought about him.

Glenn looks down at me again, placing a kiss on my forehead. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up any second now and realize this is all a dream. "Yeah...Yeah, this is her."

Rick seems trusting of his word, but is still hesitant to accept me, a sign of a good leader. "Hey, man. You know I-I gotta ask her."

My brother tenses a little, holds me a little closer, but nods his head after a few awkward seconds. I'm still not quite sure what's going on, a little shell shocked, so I eye Rick wearily.

He clears his throat and speaks in a gruff tone, "How many walkers've you killed?"

It takes me a second to realize he's talking about the biters. "A few. I actually, um, I hide my scent and I usually walk with the hordes. They don't tend to bother me a whole lot."

The crowd, at least thirty strong by now, reacts visibly to my words, wincing with looks of disgust on their faces. Some of them don't react, the strong ones, the ones that realize what you have to do to survive in this new world. It surprises me that one of them is a boy, not much younger than I am. He stares at me with one piercing blue eye, expression blank and giving away nothing.

I'm torn away from looking at him by Rick speaking again. "How many people?"

I wince this time, and Rick tenses again, placing his hand on his gun. I'm quick to assuage any wrong impressions he got from my involuntary reaction. "One. Only one."

"Why?"

The boy's still staring at me, and I'm desperately glad that Glenn hasn't stepped away from me, rejected me in the face of the innocence I've lost.

"He was with a, uh, a group. They found me a little over three weeks ago and they…." Glenn's hold grows tighter, and for the first time I see a crack in the boy's veneer of composure.

"I escaped by pushing him into a biter, ran while the rest of 'em were distracted. He deserved it." I glare fiercely at the leader, daring him to argue with me.

Rick shakes his head and takes his hand off his weapon again. "You did what ya had ta do. If you hadn't taken him down, there's no telling what would've happened to you."

I duck my head into Glenn's shoulder, overwhelmed by everything that's going on around me. In the span of a day, I killed someone, escaped my captors, found a safe settlement, and found my brother. Everything keeps flying at me and I haven't had any time to process it. I'm reminded of the fact that I also haven't had any time to look after my injuries by a sudden stabbing pain in my side.

Glenn takes one look at the expression of pain on my face and gently picks me up, ignoring my weak protests. "I'm taking her to the infirmary, Rick." The man doesn't bother arguing in the face of my brother's protectiveness, merely nodding his consent. My brother looks at another woman in the crowd. "You mind, Denise?"

She startles, brief panic crossing her face before it settles into determination. Without bothering to respond to his question, she marches off, leading Glenn and me to my medical salvation.

The crowd parts for us, and I catch one last glimpse of the boy before he's swallowed once again.

* * *

"So it looks like you managed to escape a concussion, which is fantastic, but you do have a couple of bruised ribs. Just take some of the ibuprofen, rest periodically, and you should sleep upright. It'll take some of the pressure off of your lungs, make the recovery go a little faster, a little easier.. Are those all of the injuries you have?"

I almost nod my head, before I remember. Desperately, I glance at Glenn out of the corner of my eyes, and Denise seems to understand, asking him to leave the room. He looks at me as if to ask me if I'm sure, and I nod, not looking him in the eyes. With one last kiss to my forehead and a pat on my shoulder he leaves.

I avoid Denise's eyes too as I speak, "The group that I was with, they, um, they… touched me."

She doesn't visibly react to my words, but I can feel her body tense from a few feet away. She places a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Did they use contraceptives?"

"Yeah, yeah. They did. I just want to, ya know, make sure."

Denise smooths my matted hair out of my eyes, giving me a kind smile. "We'll test you for any transmitted diseases every six weeks or so along with pregnancy, starting now. Just…" She pauses, unsure of how to word what she wants to say. "Just know that if you need to talk to someone about anything you went through out there, everybody here has some experience. I don't want to make talking to someone mandatory, but that's some pretty heavy shit."

I nod my head, afraid if I look at her I'll burst into tears. Who would have thought that after everything I went through out there that I would end up in a safe community with my brother of all people?

Glenn walks in cautiously when the Doctor finishes with checking me, still giving me that look like he's just as overwhelmed and happy as I am. He doesn't ask me what Denise and I talked about, just takes my hand in his, rough callouses catching on each other. He throws a smile at the Doctor and leads me out.

"You don't mind staying with us, right? I'm sure if you wanted to Rick could find you someone else to stay with, but Maggie and I have an open room right across from ours."

He looks so hopeful, eyes creased at the corner and the edges of his lips tugged up in what passes for a smile nowadays. I squeeze his hand in mine, nodding my consent.

* * *

The houses are huge, evidence of the lives people used to live. Glenn points out the house the rest of his group is staying in, though he says they usually congregate in one to eat and hang out, and then leads me into the one we're staying in. I trail a few steps behind him as we walk up the wooden porch, running my fingers across the painted railings.

The door opens near silently -well-oiled hinges- and we step inside. I'm instantly assaulted by what is possibly the best smelling thing in the world. I take a deep breath in through my nose, drowning myself in the heady scent of warm, delicious food. My brother glances back at me, smiling at the dumb look of awe that must be clearly evident on my face.

"Carol's probably making something. We'll get you in the shower before we eat."

I nod without a word of protest, briefly wondering if my time alone has caused me to go insane. There's no way they have food, and running water, and electricity. It's just not possible.

Glenn doesn't seem to mind my inability to formulate words at the moment. He squeezes my hand in his again, grounding me, and leads me past the delicious smells and up the stairs into a bathroom. He leaves for a second with promises to be right back with clothes and some 'feminine products'. The look of hesitance on his face is almost enough to make me laugh. As it is, a smile worms its way onto my face, causing my brother to beam right back at me.

He's back quickly, reluctant to leave me to own devices, with a bundle of clean clothes and cleaning products. "The clothes are Rosita's, one of the people from my group. There are newer, probably better fitting clothes in the storage, but it's all the way across town…"

I smile again, the expression coming to me easier each time I use it, the stretch feeling less foreign. "It's fine, Glenn. I've been wearing these same clothes for about two months now, I honestly couldn't care less."

He leaves after extracting a promise from me to call either him or Maggie -who I figure is his girlfriend or something- if I need absolutely anything while I'm cleaning myself up. The eye roll I give in response and the sigh of exasperation from him reminds me of when I use to visit his apartment in Atlanta over spring and summer break.

The door closes behind me with a quiet snick, and I flinch at the feeling of behind trapped in the small room. I know realistically that I'm completely safe, that there's a group of the good survivors just outside the door to prevent anything bad from happening to me, but I also know that reality doesn't have a whole lot to do with this new world.

I take a calming breath, inhaling the cleanness that surrounds me, and inspect the bathroom.

There's a huge shower right in front of me, and I practically whimper at the sight. I set the pile of clothes and cleaners on the sink counter next to me and go to undress myself when I accidentally catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror.

I don't recognize myself. I've frozen at the sight before me, not quite sure how I'm supposed to react. The girl in the mirror is older, more harsher than I remember looking. Her cheekbones are sharper from lack of a constant food income, skin and clothes covered in biter gore and rot, hair a black cloud surrounding the soft planes of her face. She looks...wild.

Unease settles in my core, and I wrench my gaze from my reflection to take my clothes off and step inside the shower. The first sputter of hot water has me moaning indecently loud, and then hoping fervently that the water is loud enough to cover up the sounds I'm making.

I stand under the spray for what feels like hours, using up the entire bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, until the water runs cold. I dry off quickly, shivering in the cool air of the bathroom, and dress in Rosita's clothes. They fit me well enough, and I appreciate the meager protection they offer me.

When I open the door and take a step outside, I'm once again assaulted by the smell of food from downstairs, even stronger now that it's ready. My borrowed boots -a size too large- pad quietly against the carpeted floor as I make my way down.

There's a lot of them, crammed into the large dining area and spilling out into the living room in a loud cacophony of noise and smells. They notice me walk in almost instantly, senses still sharp from time spent outside the walls, and they quiet down some. Glenn stands up from where he was sitting and makes his way towards me around the maze of people.

My brother doesn't mention how different I look even without the layer of filth. He ignores the bruises on my face and the purple bags under my eyes and only comments on how nice my hair looks when it's as long as it is.

I can feel their eyes on me as I get food from the kitchen, taking a smaller portion than I really want because I know I won't be able to eat more. Denise nods approvingly to me from where she's entangled around another woman.

I sit in between Glenn and Maggie, and take in the eclectic group of people. They're all very close with each other, not aware of personal boundaries and what's socially acceptable. With a start, I recognize the boy from the crowd, the one with the vivid blue eye, the other covered by a bandage. He's talking to another, older teen, laughing over what looks like a comic book. A girl close to my age is sitting quietly next to them, offering a sarcastic comment every once in awhile, making the two boys roar with laughter.

I look away from him before he can notice my stare and relish in the feel of Glenn absently running his hand through my hair while he talks to Maggie. She isn't sitting close enough to me that I feel trapped between them, but I can feel her warm presence.

Everyone else is done with their food but continues to sit together while I savor my food. I take another bite of casserole, and Glenn suddenly clears his throat. Everybody quiets down and looks at him. I know they're not looking at me, just in my general direction, but I shrink into myself regardless.

"Right, so. I'm just going to jump right into it." He pauses and everybody waits for him to continue. I take another bite of my food.

Maggie grows impatient at his loss of words and take over for him. She beams at everyone and says, "I'm pregnant!"

There's instant congratulation and cheer, but I'm not paying attention because I'm choking on my food. Glenn makes a startled noise and pounds his hand on my back until I've stopped hacking for long enough to speak. "What the hell!?"

The room goes silent again at my outburst, but I'm turning around so I can stare at both Glenn and Maggie at the same time.

Maggie hesitantly looks at Glenn and he quickly responds. "I know you just got here, Riley, and this probably isn't the best time for us to tell you. We just wanted to tell you at the same time we told everyone else."

I shake my head incredulously at the thickness of my brother's skull. "I don't care that you're telling me now! I didn't even know you guys were together."

Understanding finally dawns on their faces, but my attention is drawn away from them by someone laughing across the room. My head snaps in that direction to see the boy from earlier chuckling loudly.

Rick looks at him sternly. "Carl…"

I get to my feet, easily angered by this asswipe who's laughing at me. Others in the room get up too, and Carl stops laughing at the suddenly tense room.

"Sorry, it was just kinda funny. I didn't mean to offend you or anything." He sounds surprisingly sincere, and I feel myself blush when his eyes connect with mine so he can look at me earnestly.

I'm instantly placated, and slowly sit back down. "Oh, no. That's fine. Sorry for overreacting."

There's another few seconds of awkward silence and I pray my blush isn't as obvious as his is. Glenn shifts next to me and I remember our audience just as someone chuckles under their breath.

It's the guy who was carrying me when I woke up, and him laughing at us is the catalyst to everyone else laughing at us.

I quietly join in on the congratulations to Glenn and Maggie, finishing my food as quick as I can. Other than the laughing and a couple of mutters about 'damn teenagers', mine and Carl's almost fight has gone unmentioned. I'm once again enjoying the warmth and comfort surrounding me.

I absolutely do not spend the rest of the night until they leave watching him out of the corner of my eye.

* * *

 **Definitely a bit of a filler before the action of the later episodes. This chapter has some character interaction between Riley and Carl, and I don't know if anyone caught it, but the other teenager Carl was talking to was Noah because I'm still very bitter that they killed him off. So. He's still alive.**

 **Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed!**


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up abruptly, heart racing and palms sweating. I was having a nightmare, one where I imagine where I'd be right now if I hadn't managed to escape the group of men.

The bed is too soft. I'm used to sleeping in trees while traveling with the hordes, or resting on the floor next to a bed in a house, feeling too guilty to sleep in the bed of someone who was almost surely dead. The soft blanket against my skin and the warm comfort of the mattress is too much for me.

I heave myself off of the bed, goosebumps raising at the shock of cool air, and shuffle out into the hall. Glenn and Maggie's door is shut, and I stare at contemplatively for a second before shaking my head and moving on. I'm too old to crawl into my brother and his wife's room because of a stupid nightmare. I run a hand through my tangled mess of hair, heave a sigh, and head towards the kitchen for a late night snack.

Someone's already there, rummaging through the cabinets, and I curse the fact that my kidnappers had taken my weapons away from me, made me defenseless. Glenn hadn't told me that anyone else would be staying in the house, this intruder could hurt him or Maggie. Or the baby. I walk towards the person, body tense and poised to attack should they make a move towards me.

A head pops out from behind the cabinet door to look at me. It's the teenager who had been laughing with Carl last night, an Oreo held in his hands and a mildly guilty look on his face. He relaxes a bit when he sees that it's me and not someone else, but still keeps his body angled toward a door I can see behind him. An escape route.

"Riley, right? I'm Noah. I stay with Glenn and Maggie in the room next to yours."

I nod my head slowly, believing him but not yet willing to relax myself. He keeps a careful eye on me as he sits at the kitchen table with the package of Oreos and a glass of what's probably powdered milk.

I ignore him and grab a handful of salted almonds, disregarding a plate and setting them in a pile, and take a seat across from him at the table. We're far enough away from each other that either one of us could make it out of a door before being tackled.

We sit there in a tense silence, staring at each other while slowly munching on food. I pop another almond into my mouth, relishing in Noah's flinch at the loud crunch. I feel bad about it a second later, but quickly remind myself that there's no room for remorse in the new world.

I reach for another almond only to grasp nothing. Noah must see my there-and-gone pout because he looks amused.

"What." The harshness in my voice surprises both of us and I duck my head, allowing my hair to slide in front of my eyes and act as a curtain.

I'm even more surprised at Noah's warm laugh. "For someone who acts like they could rip my head off, you're pretty cute."

I bristle at his words even while I feel my cheeks heat up. He looks far too amused for my taste. "And what's that supposed to mean?!"

Noah laughs even harder, but still quietly in an attempt to make sure Glenn and Maggie don't hear us. He's very good at ignoring my glare.

"Nothing, nothing. You've just got a cute face, ya know, adorable. And you're short."

I stand up from the table, wincing slightly at the screech of the chair against the floor. Noah watches silently as I turn my back to him and stalk out of the room. His laugh is loud enough for me to hear when I grumble, "I'm not that short."

It's still dark outside and when I pass my brother's room I have to remind myself that he probably wouldn't want me crawling into bed with him and Maggie.

 _And they might be naked._

 **Ew.**

My bed is still too soft for me to sleep deeply, so I pile some of the blankets and pillows on the floor. It takes me a while, but I manage to clear my mind of any lingering embarrassment and distaste long enough for me to go to sleep.

* * *

Noah keeps sending me amused glances. Every time he does, I glare at him, but he just seems to find it funny more than anything else.

It's just the two of us, plus Carl, Rick, Judith, and Maggie who are eating breakfast this morning. The Grimes have come to eat with us in lieu of by themselves for some strange reason and the rest have already left for their jobs. When I'm not attempting to murder Noah with my eyes, I'm glancing at Rick, wondering when would be a good time to ask what my job is.

It doesn't look like Carl has a job, but I know that you can't be with a group without a little give and take. Since I'm not really a part of them yet, and they saved me, it makes sense that I'll have to pay off a sort of debt that I've managed to accrue.

I shoot another look at the bane of my existence, hoping he'll stop chuckling every time I do so, but he just smiles around a mouthful of cereal. I check to make sure the adults aren't looking and flip him off.

The surprise on his and Carl's face is almost enough to make me smile, but without Glenn in the room I'm feeling a lot less secure. His group seems like the good kind, but I've been without someone I could trust since the start of this thing a year and a half ago. I've learned that the real good people don't live long now. It would be foolish of me to assume that, just because my brother's a part of this group, they haven't done anything that would've been considered wrong before.

Both of them are staring at me now, confused by my sudden inattention, and I run a self conscious hand through my hair. My fingers get caught in a snarl, and I finish my last bite of toast before standing up from the table, intent on getting dressed and exploring Alexandria a bit. Maybe a look around will calm me down a little.

I've barely taken a step in the direction of my room when Rick looks up from his quiet conversation with Maggie and raises his voice so I can hear him. "I was thinking that Carl could show you around Alexandria today, Riley. I'll be taking Judith today, and everyone else'll be working, so it'll just be you two and Noah."

I struggle to keep in my frustration, giving him a tight-lipped smile. Who is he to be telling me what to do? If I had my weapons with me I could kill him, a swing of my hammer to his unsuspecting head and it would cave in. He'd be dead before he could do anything about it.

Carl would be next, preoccupied with a baby in his arms, then Noah and Maggie with two harsh crunches and a spray of warm blood, and then little Judith-

"Right, I'll just go get ready then."

Rick nods at me, unaware of my brief thoughts of mutiny. He goes back to his conversation with Maggie, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes and stomp up the stairs in a huff. Carl doesn't have the same compunction and heaves a sigh before going back to trying to convince Judith to eat her breakfast instead of throwing it around the room.

I take carefully measured steps up the stairs, body tense and tight with anger. It's hard enough being a child and dealing with all that it entails in the end of the world without actually being treated like one. Rick obviously has a lot of respect for Noah and Carl, treating them more like he treats Daryl and Glenn than like the adolescents they are. What do I have to do to be treated like that?

 _Well for starters, you might seem a lot more outwardly sane if you don't imagine yourself murdering them in a fit of teenage frustration._

I snort indelicately. **And I probably shouldn't listen to what the voices in my head are telling me to do.**

I dress quickly, not wanting to be in my room for any longer than necessary. Glenn had told me that no one had lived in the house beforehand, but it still felt like I was intruding. For a second I try to imagine the family who would have bought this house, their teenage girl who would be living in this room instead of me if the world hadn't gone to shit.

It makes me sad.

The clothes are a bit baggy on me, meant for someone a little bit older and more filled out than myself, but I'm grateful nonetheless that Maggie got them for me from storage this morning. Rosita's clothes were nice, certainly a hell of alot nicer than the clothing I'd been wearing before coming here, but she's taller than me and has more curves.

I run a brush through my hair, marveling at the simplicity of the action and the lack of rotting matter in the strands. It's unsettling to look at myself in the mirror, see how this new world has changed me in more ways than the loss of my innocence.

 _You look like a biter._

 **….**

It's not the gaunt cheeks or thin wrists that has me not arguing with myself, it's my eyes. They've still got the same slant I can remember being made fun of for back in Michigan when race was still relevant, but the usual shining brown is dull. Dead.

The rest of my face has remained fairly innocent, blemishes and markings normal for a fourteen year old plus a scar or two. If one were to ignore the lack of life present in the orbs, I could pass for a teenager from Before.

My lips twitch into a parody of a smile, awkward and tense in a way it wasn't when it was aimed at my brother last night.

 **Good enough.**

I saunter back downstairs and into the dining room where I'm confronted with an already impatiently waiting Carl, and a lounging Noah. The adults have gone off to do whatever it is that's required of them, taking the baby along.

Confused by the sudden hostility present in the boy, I wisely choose not to open my mouth and instead follow after the two. We walk in silence except for one of them pointing out an important building, usually followed by Carl telling me that I'm not allowed to go there.

Noah has a whispered conversation with him after it's obvious that I'm barely preventing myself from snapping at him. I can't make out what he says, but Carl calms down enough that I feel less like he's about to turn around and slit my throat. He's only an inch taller than me, but he's a lot healthier than I am. With the addition of the element of surprise there's a chance he could do it.

I make sure to stay close to Noah.

We pass another extravagant house, and this one has a girl sitting on the porch, staring at us with a blank facial expression. It's weirding me out.

I tug on Noah's sleeve and point at her surreptitiously, asking, "Who's she?"

Noah looks in the direction of the girl and smiles warmly at her. I'm surprised at the smile she gives back.

"That's Enid. She used to be a lot different before the attack, a lot more withdrawn, almost like she'd given up. She's way better now."

 _She used to be like you; she's getting better now. Are you gonna ever get better?_

 **Shut up.**

Carl is facing forward, pretending not to pay attention to our conversation, but I see his small wave to the girl and the answering peace sign. I ignore the voice niggling at the back of my head and smile cautiously at her. She regards me wearily, lips pursed, before inclining her head in a subtle nod.

It feels like I've passed some sort of odd test.

We continue the tour, the boys continuing to point out places like the armory and the watchtowers, but I'm paying more attention to the evident destruction. The charred bodies of biter's lay in piles near the pond and a whole section of the wall is being rebuilt. Glenn had told me last night that the Safe-Zone had been attacked by a group called the Wolves, but I hadn't really seen the result of it yet.

My heart hurts just the tiniest bit when I see a section of the wall with names on it, a lot of them. I know what it's like to lose a group; before I had wised up and went at it alone, I had been in several of them. None had been attacked by the living, but each had met a gruesome fate, leaving the survivors scattering.

The tour has lost any interest it had previously held and I'm relieved when we arrive back at Glenn and Maggie's house. I'm sure the others noticed my sudden withdrawn nature, but they don't ask so I don't tell them.

We're inside for barely a minute before Carl runs off, citing a hangout with Enid as the reason for his abandonment of us. I watch him readjust his hair so his bangs cover his bandage a little better before he's gone.

I brush my own hair out of my eyes, enjoying the less tense atmosphere now that Carl is gone. My smile comes easier again with the absence of the moody teenager and I make to head upstairs, maybe browse the bookshelf I saw for something to read.

"Hey, Riley?" Noah's slow words and cautious tone instantly put me back on edge.

"Yeah?"

He wrings his hands nervously, shuffling his feet in an obvious tell that he's uncomfortable. "About Carl…" He clears his throat before continuing, "During the attack, he was shot, it's how he lost his eye. And the wound, it uh, it got infected."

I stare at him unsure of where this is going. "Okay…"

"Well the infection caused some brain damage we think, so he sometimes forgets things and people and his mood changes a lot. So the way he was acting today wasn't because he doesn't like you or anything, he just can't help."

Continuing to stare at him makes his usual cool dissipate. "Right. Well, I'm going upstairs. Call me if you need something."

 **Why should I care about his problems?**

* * *

 **Because I refuse to believe that Carl managed to escape being shot in the face with just the loss of his eye.**

 **Sorry for the late update, I'm actually on Spring Break right now, so I updated another fic, before watching the finale and getting some inspiration to write this chapter. (Who else is super fucking frustrated by that ending?)**

 **I also changed how many days it's been since the outbreak so that you guys don't have to have fifty chapters of waiting for** ** _The Next World_** **. And if anybody is interested, Riley's face claim is Kim Sae-Ron.**

 **Thank you to everybody who reviewed, followed, and favorited!**


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